


A Violet So Deep It Courses In Rivers

by sshadier



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sshadier/pseuds/sshadier
Summary: There are some kinds of "tired" that no amount of sleep could save you from.Prompt:{He's dirty, angry, hungry, hasn't slept in two days, & spent all last night covered in Daemon & Elixir in an ice cave with no jacket.}





	1. I

_ Stay vigilant, stay safe, keep moving, and keep together _ ; words that the crowned prince always repeated to himself in times like this, as something deep and ugly threatened to creep into his good judgement. This was something that he could  _ absolutely not _ run from, though he supposed they could have timed this particular raid in a better way. Turning back for a few hours was always an option, but they were already at the mouth of the dripping dungeon. From within, a steady cold breeze halted their steps, and they decided to gather their bearings just beneath the waterfall. 

It was a heavy-hearted shame that they had all left their jackets in the Regalia (not even the barren desert of Leide could compare to heat of the meteor-powered city of Lestallum); the warmth of the sun was leaving the air by the minute as it set beyond a horizon they couldn’t see. In their shallow canyon, all they had left was the mist of the waterfall and the chill from the open crevice that was their destination.

“It's getting dark out,” Ignis weighed for them all to consider. “We may well have time to head back now and have a go in the morning, or we should head inside as soon as we can.”

“The sooner we’re in, the sooner we’re out,” Gladio decided to add.

“Either way,” the spectacled man’s voice grew to a deathly level of seriousness, as if it were at all possible for him to be more serious in a situation like this in the first place. “We don’t know what will be in there. We don’t even know if the Royal Tomb is in there at all. If we’re in and out quickly, we’ll have Daemons to face on our journey back. If we take too long, we may run out of supplies. We’re in a dangerous situation no matter what we do, Highness. Please do watch yourself.”

Noctis’ first reaction was to think of it as a sort of kingly test, with the Royal Arms as further proof of his rights to thronely ascension. But, after breaching the opening of the cave’s expanse, he was immediately thrusted back into his previous mindset of staving off the fear that poked into his sides and his stomach, and the back of his neck, as if he were being watched from the darkened corners. Everything about this barely lit, barely  _ quiet _ place screamed for them to turn back, though all four of them knew that such a thing wasn’t an option. The last of the orange in the sky behind them (just barely visible, providing a small amount of light to the cave’s opening) disappeared completely as they fell victim to the slippery ice that sent them below. It shortly thereafter disappeared from the sky itself, inviting Daemons of all sorts to walk the grounds of Eos.

It was on hour two in the cave that Noctis realized his last full meal had been the day before — 24 hours before they entered the waterfall cave, to be exact, which must have been why he was losing his sense of direction. Under the same ceilings and over the same bridges of ice, they continued to circle, shivering and barely surviving off of the waning supply of potions and elixirs in their personal stock. The kinks in his neck were getting harder and harder to shrug off and he felt himself affected in other parts of his body as well. Discomfort in his shoulders and throbbing in his knee would not be forgotten or dulled down by adrenaline. Instead, his condition worsened like the stains of rock dust and thick, cold mud across his clothing.

There was only so much that a potion could do before its effects could no longer restore the mental vitality needed to bear through a journey like this one. But there was no other way except forward. Or, left at the next fork. No, wasn’t that a dead end?

Mercy of the Six, they were lost again.

Another hour was spent getting themselves back on track. Arachne and Imps be damned, the layout of a dim, freezing ice cave _ well  _ after their intended sleeping hour was enough to throw them off, but the constant battle and injury served to worsen it tenfold. Fast-acting bruises from blows that sent a Prince flying across entire caverns and chambers could not be waved off by any sort of potion — and anyway, they needed to conserve as much as they could. A few bruises were nothing compared to the delirium of serious harm without a means to be cured, even if some of them knocked every breath out of his chest and he had to gasp to the nearby Prompto in starving breaths that he’d be okay.

None of them were completely sure what time it was by the time they felled the last waiting beast, but Noctis seemed to be faring the worst at any rate. Prompto was still chittering his teeth and bouncing around, albeit without as much energy as usual. Ignis stood tall, prepared for any lingering enemies or orders Noctis would give. Gladio stretched out his arms above him, in front of him, behind him, limber enough (and certainly strong enough) to handle anything that had its eyes on the Prince.

Once they were finally outside with the Sword of the Wanderer in Noctis’ arsenal, they realized that there were still a few hours left of nighttime.

None of them spoke of it; they already knew that it was a possibility, and figured themselves ready to fight their way back to the Regalia. The Daemons guarding the canyon would be as attentive and lethal as ever, not to mention numerous. However long they had left to last until sunrise, they didn’t have a choice; being outside with endlessly rising devious creatures was preferable to the maze-like death-hazard that the four men barely managed to crawl out of.

As he continued to fight, the fear crept back in, and Noctis didn’t have any strength left to fight it off. His only mode for continuing on was the borrowed energy of potions and restoratives that continued to deplete from his pockets, as well as the occasional red downy feather for the comrades who dodged a blow merely half a second too late. Within his heart, he asked himself how long he had to continue pushing himself like this — not within the span of the last hours before dusk, but in terms of the rest of his life.

He thought of his father, The King, and how decades of strength couldn’t stop his death from happening. An entire wall, kingdom, and army couldn’t hold back his death. An entire system of Crownsguardsmen couldn’t stop it from happening. All the good Regis tried to do by his people, by Noctis, by his mother —

None of it mattered in the end.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and realized that he’d still been attacking a Daemon that had already been killed moments earlier, if the looks of his comrades were anything to go by. Just as he stopped and stored his weapon away, the Daemon’s corpse faded away into the wind. He wondered when it would be back to try and claim someone else.

“We have to get a move on,” Gladio said to seemingly everyone but Noctis. “I don’t think some of us can keep going without turning cra — ”

“None of us are going crazy,” Noctis interrupted, and everyone fell silent. Whether it was out of duty or out of surprise, Noctis didn’t want to know. “We’ll be back to the Regalia by the time the sun comes up. Look.”

Just at the horizon that they could now see was a low orange light.

And the Prince proved to be correct. When it came time to gather themselves into the car, the sun was fully visible, and warmth seeped back into the land. Combined with their fatigue and a comfortable seat in the car, the lull of sleep was all too tempting, even as Ignis made the stubborn argument that Noctis’ wellbeing was more important than his own.

Except, it wasn’t, and Noctis didn’t plan on sleeping at all. So with force, he took the wheel, and he only had Prompto left to face from the passenger seat of the car.

“You sure you’re alright, Noct? You’ve got bruises under your eyes, that’s gotta hurt.”

After a quick look in the mirror, Noctis sighed. “Not bruises.” But they were just as purple, and his eyes throbbed just as much as any black eye would make them.

“Oh.” Silence. “Hey, if you want me to drive…”

The Prince gave Prompto a side glance, and the Regalia was muted once more. Neither Noctis nor Prompto reached for the radio or thought of anything they could say that would make up for their hunger, and pain, and exhaustion. But, even through the speechlessness, Noctis heard everything he needed with Prompto’s constant shifting and uncomfortable leg crossing, trying to keep himself active and awake.

“Go to sleep, Prompto. It’s a long drive to Lestallum.”

“No way, dude. The last thing I need is an alarm clock of some innocent family screaming bloody murder because you fell asleep at the wheel and decided to drive right into some random restaurant off the side of the road — “

“Prompto.”

They both took a breath before the blond decided to respond. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah.” He spared a look off of the road and onto his passenger. “Yeah,” he insisted again for emphasis.

They both knew it was a lie. If Ignis and Gladio were still awake, it could have been shared between the four of them together as the obvious lack of honesty that it was. If Ignis himself wasn’t depleted of energy to the point of passing out right as he took a seat, he would have been the one in the passenger seat asking questions and passing on visual health inspections. If Gladio had been awake, he would have been insisting that Noctis was only being stubborn, and needed to take a step down from whatever ledge he was putting himself on. And Noctis knew that he was right.

Prompto couldn’t do anything about Noctis’ decision, and that was the only reason why he took a breath and leaned his head back against the seat, but not before squinting his eyes at the driver.

“What?”

“No crash-y adventures without me.”

“I know, I know. Go to sleep.”

“I mean it! And don’t even try to beat my high score in Justice Monsters Five.”

“Sleep. I promise.” And there wasn’t another word spoken between them.

Noctis wasn’t used to being the only one awake. In fact, their situation was almost always the other way around, with him being the only person  _ asleep _ in even the strangest of places. If he felt like dozing off, he let himself do so; it was a bad habit left over from his spoiled days as the young, child-Prince he used to be. But now, he thought back to every day he’d had with his father in those years. Years he took for granted and left behind without anything more than occasional nostalgia. Words he wished he’d said, and never said. Anything, anything he could have done to prevent the worst.

At the realization that there had been no hope from the very beginning, something choked its way out of his throat, and he adjusted to driving with one hand on the wheel so the other could cover his mouth. He didn’t know if he’d be able to control something as deep-rooted as a sob for the family he’d never see again, or the inevitability of their death. The kingdom that was in ruins and under Imperial rule. The sheer mass of destruction and death that lay in his home.

And certainly, under no circumstances, did he want anyone else to hear what transpired. There wasn’t any use for feeling depressed for his predicament. It was more useful to feel angry, or vengeful, or willing to plan out a counter attack to take back his home. Still, emotions do not ask permission, and they do not give apologies.

And they do not spare the afflicted from the careful ears of an actor with years of experience, eyes closed, but heart open, subconsciously offering attention and empathy from someone who couldn’t have possibly kept away from Noctis’ one-sided conversation with himself if he wanted to.

Prompto didn’t have a choice with that either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't kind to Noctis as I made my way to the Royal Tomb that held the Sword of the Wanderer, and I thought back on everything that Noctis had to deal with all at once. I think I feel a bit guilty for it. But at least through it all we had Prompto, who successfully screamed out Noctis' name as loud as he could whenever the poor Prince got himself injured. Thanks for that, man.
> 
> I'm not sure if this will stand as a oneshot or if I'll add more later.  
> I suppose we'll see in time!


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> {It's the knot in your throat that tightens up every time you think about lying to him. You're not fine; maybe you won't ever be.}

His back was flat again the mattress beneath him, hair still damp from the first fresh shower he’d been able to take in days. Noctis couldn’t scrub his skin hard enough even after all of the dirt and grime left his body; he felt more filthy than he actually was, and subconsciously he wondered if that was because of the memory of being trapped under piles of Flan for seven hours or the vile thoughts of death he’d been having since they entered the cave in general. Such thoughts had not left, and as a result, the Prince had not experienced even a small taste of respite in what felt like a lifetime.

Well, it was a lifetime of experiences away, so it may as well have been as long. No person should have to face so much in so little time, but there he was, a standing example that life and fate had no sense of guilt or regret.

— And then Noctis thought back to where he had been not even an hour before. On the roof of the motel that he (somehow) managed driving to, he really only wanted to be alone with his own thoughts and not the steady, heavy breathing of sleeping bodies that was in the room they rented. They seemed barely able to crawl out of the Regalia and into the room, so Noctis had faith that he could have a good, long moment alone to try and gather his bearings before letting himself sleep. 

But, atop the roof, he heard a person climbing the ladder. Was it Ignis, dragging him off for the betterment of his health? Was it Gladio, likely to scold him and try urging him down for the same reason?

No. It was Prompto, who didn’t seem to be the least bit tired in spite of the lingering seriousness around the edges of his eyes, unfettered by the smile he offered. Noctis really had to wonder what Prompto had up his sleeve this time. The two were no strangers to late night excursions, snuck and hidden away from their two sleeping companions, off to spend time in the diner playing video games or taking walks where the light of their refuge still reached the streets. But with a look like that on a boy like Prompto, Noctis felt… uneasy.

Nothing seemed right anymore. If even Prompto couldn’t be his typical self through everything that happened, Noctis didn’t know that he had much left to depend on. But the conversation started lightly enough; enough to calm his nerves and keep him going (an hour later as he laid next to the same person, trying to sleep, Noctis would realize that perhaps it was the whole purpose of Prompto’s reaching out). Yet still, an awkwardness clung to the air, and something tightened in their chests — the silent burden of knowing too much, and not knowing what to say about it.

Prompto attempted to diffuse it by doing something he’d never thought to do before, regardless of how long they’d been friends or how close they were after so much time. It was an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. A weakness for weakness, whether or not he  _ meant _ to listen to Noctis’ poor attempts at stopping himself from crying. He felt like he was partially responsible.

So he came clean, and Noctis listened with an intent ear, the tightness in his chest almost dissipating away with every honest word. He may have been withdrawn and downright quiet at times, dealing with his emotions mostly by storing them away under a royal lock and key, but some things were so vulnerable that they demanded to be shown no matter how much its victim reached out to suffocate it.

That was one of the greater ironies of tragedy.

“Every moment, I’m desperate to earn my place — to prove that I’m good enough.”

Noctis wanted with every fiber in his being to cry out, ‘ _ Me too _ ,’ but another feeling took hold before he could ever consider following through with it, and he spoke with just as much honesty as Prompto had given him. For once, he didn’t suggest heading off to bed as he normally would have in any other situation. He didn’t change the subject, or allow himself to stutter with any sort of hesitation. Prompto deserved more than that. More than the person Noctis had been, skating around emotions thinking he could solve them that way. Thinking they could be _ solved  _ at all.

“Think what you will, but I think you’re good enough for me.”

In the past 48 hours with little food and waning supplies, it was easy to forget about things like the little luxuries one afforded oneself. Sleeping every night, eating three meals a day, showers, baths, and laying next to a person that made heartbeats rickochet in the cavity of one’s chest. Noctis found that he was taking this in, over and over again, letting himself be joyful in any which way he could grasp at. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Prompto took notice of this, warm under the bed covers they shared.

“You really can’t sleep, can you?”

It was whispered, so as to not wake up the other inhabitants of the room, but Noctis doubted that there would be much that could wake them at this point. Still, he whispered back.

“I was just getting there.” Prompto’s earlier words continued echoing in his thoughts.  _ Thanks for making time for this loser. _

“You sure about that? I don’t think you’ll get any sleep staring at the ceiling.”

“...” He had a point. And after a long, drawn out silence that almost hinted at Noctis falling asleep, he finally responded. “...Yeah.”

Except, his voice wasn’t quite the same — not quite as strong or sure of himself. It shook a fair bit until his breathing followed suit, and suddenly he was back to where he was as he drove, trying to keep away what he packed in his heart to be forgotten as time passed on ahead of him.

“Noct?”

He took in a breath to respond, but it hitched, and his hand flew up to cover his mouth. Still, a tear escaped the corner of his eye. It seemed that with whatever joy he thought he’d find, he’d also find something that was bittersweet at best, and heartbreaking at worst. Prompto was witness to it all. Throwing whatever preconception he had that Noctis would have preferred to suffer in silence out of the window, the blond pulled himself up to rest on one elbow and wiped away the tear that streaked across Noctis’ temple. 

“Hey, come on buddy, we’re all gonna be fine. You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” he tried to get a grip on himself, “I know.”

With a sudden motion, Prompto brought his hand to the one Noctis held over his mouth and pulled it away to reveal a frowning grimace. He hadn’t ever fully seen Noctis cry with his own two eyes, let alone like this.

Subtle streaks of neon illuminated the curtains that draped across their windows, semi-transparent but doing a well enough job of keeping the room hidden from sight by people on the street. Both Noctis and Prompto were grateful; Noctis, for himself, and Prompto, for his partner.

Prompto’s reaction had brought the two of them closer; with so little space between them now, their eyes adjusted to the soft darkness, they could see just how much the other was trying. Noctis, trying to steady his wavering mind. Prompto, trying to steady the wavering Prince. Nobody came out of trials like these unscathed — Noctis’ clear mishandle of loss and sadness had only made that consequence worse for himself. But, as he always was, Prompto was there to lend whatever he could.

For now, that thing was a shoulder, and arms around him so tight he wondered where Noctis had found the strength from. Quiet sobs turned gentle against him, and Prompto held on with everything he had until the shaking ceased completely. 

“Prompto.” A tired voice much more like that of a Prince about to fall asleep in the back of the car. Familiar.

“Yeah?” he risked a glance downwards at the head of hair that found itself buried in Prompto’s collarbones.

“Thanks for making time for this spoiled prince.”

Light laughter kept itself away from the other ears in the room, but Noctis could hear it from within the blond’s chest, sweet and resounding. A comfort from his recent years that he came to rely on much more than he consciously realized. Prompto’s laughter, even when low and barely audible, was like a warm summer day from happier times. Noctis looked back fondly in this way, with his tears having stained the chest of Prompto’s shirt — but none more followed suit. After the small outburst he was calm, finally at peace for the night.

The anger and sadness really did dissipate then, making room for a wholesomeness that Noctis had been needing more and more of since they left their home. The embrace around Prompto continued to loosen until Noctis’ hands were merely resting on his sides, though they still stayed around the blonde while his consciousness slipped away into the sleep he had been deprived of for what felt like weeks.

He didn’t feel warm fingers gently move his long bangs out of his face, nor did he feel lips pressed against his forehead shortly afterward. But in the very least, he felt calm; he felt safe. As their journey pressed on, Noctis knew that such a feeling would continue to become scarce, and he felt like more of a child than ever — even as his destiny told him to grow up and walk tall with the world on his shoulders. 

For a single night, or even for a single hour, Noctis would be allowed to let that weight carry itself instead of resting on him. In his sleep, he was nothing more than a tired boy, yet somehow as he was held by his best friend of five years, his companion across Eos, his trusted partner, he knew it was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it a little funny how, right after I posted the first chapter and said "I don't know if I'll post another one," I got the motel scene with Prompto. Like Square Enix itself was telling me to continue on. That said, I already have another chapter in mind, so I suppose this little oneshot idea is going to end up following me through XV. Which, of course, I have no complaints about.
> 
> I hope it's enjoyable to you all, as well.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> {You wonder if things can go back to the way they were.  
> But they can't, and you can't, and he can't.  
> And you have to be fine with that.}

The first thing Noctis took note of was that this cave, at least, was not icy. 

After spending the past week doing nothing more than hunting and retrieving dog tags for Dave, Noctis truly felt that he was getting used to living life as it was. The crowned Prince and unofficial King of Lucis was dirty most nights, and went hungry on others. He stayed up far past the hour he thought his body would give out from underneath him. He somehow dragged himself through steep, musty caves just to come out on the other end as victorious. What was one more? They would make it out as they always did.

It was the faring that was the true test. Close walls and tight paths just cracked enough to allow their bodies’ passing made Noctis doubtful of his resistance to claustrophobia. Imps manifesting in the corner of his vision did well to make him hypersensitive to even the smallest twitches in the shadows. A distant noise — at this point he simply couldn’t distinguish it as something he’d heard before — kept him on his toes, waiting for it to come closer or disappear completely.

It was often interrupted by the noises of the countless imps that Noctis and his company slay, which (horribly enough) reminded Noctis of a dying, tortured animal. They only kept coming, and he only continued to force himself to tune out the pitiful screeching. Whether or not the Daemons could actually feel pain, none of them knew, and none of them asked. There was no room to care.

No room to do much else, either. 

“Watch where you swing that!” an annoyed Gladio complained, and Noctis sighed.

“Cut me some slack, I can barely move without stepping on your huge body.”

“Yeah, yeah. Count this as the one and only advantage of being as twiggy as you are.”

“Quiet,” Ignis held up his hand. “Do you hear that?”

_ My baby. _

_ Where is… _

“Uh, guys? What the hell was that?” Prompto’s quivering voice echoed even as his question was really rather quiet.

“I kept hearing it when we were further back, I think it’s closer now.”

“Closer?! Where do you think it’s — Ah!”

“Prompto!”

Noctis didn’t have even a moment to look back and watch Prompto be dragged into  _ who knows where _ . With only one way forward and no guarantee that it would take him to his missing partner, Noctis sprinted down the path, trying to listen for gunshots over his rapidly beating heart. He couldn’t lose Prompto, or let him die, or let him be harmed at all; in a place like this, so tightly packed with danger around every narrow bend, Noctis had to question whether or not Prompto would be alright when they next reunited. If that would even happen.

He really,  _ really _ didn’t want to think of the worst. The initial shock of Prompto being snatched like he was nothing but a ragdoll was jarring enough without wondering if Daemons were ripping him to shreds, or if he had been overpowered completely in his time away from the group.

But as it turns out, he hadn’t been snatched far. In what had to be the most spacious area of the cavern, Noctis caught sight of the blond fending off the Daemons that spawned from the rocks in the floor. He took a quick headcount as he sprinted down the path, doing his best to ignore the throbbing pain in his knee after rounding what had to be the fourth or fifth hairpin curve, and as soon as he was within range he warped to the foe that seemed to be closing in on the blond photographer.

“Just in time!”

Though Prompto was understandably shaken after having to deal with an audience full of Daemons on his own, Noctis’ arrival was a welcome relief — one that was enough to  _ almost _ keep his voice from cracking. Almost.

Noctis, with only a single empty second of free time in a place like this, gave a smirk and looked back at his partner.

“What was that you called me again? Your hero?”

“My knight in shining armor! Except, y’know, without the white horse.”

“I don’t think I’m all too shiny either.”

“None of us are — ” he tossed his gun to the Prince, who tossed his sword to Prompto in turn. “ — not these days, at least.” Using each other’s weapons, they brought down the Daemon ahead of them, and with a final high-five they split up to completely annihilate the group.

The full entourage swept across the open cavern until it was safe to continue on; Noctis’ leg, however, was still giving him trouble as his adrenaline died away with the end of the battle. A childhood injury he was never able to forget had become a vice in his everyday life. For a war-destined soldier, it was an unfortunate companion. But his company had long become used to it, and they slowed their pace to match his without question.

In a dark, perilous cave, their walk slowed to a crawl as they made themselves familiar with the lay of the land. Somewhere behind them, water dripped from the land above, and somewhere ahead, the almost indistinguishable whispering continued.

It continued on until it fell nearly on top of them, a disfigured face matched to a sopping, snake-like body. But, it didn’t attack right away, instead calling out for the same thing Noctis had been hearing from the very beginning. _ My baby, where is my baby? _

Besides the fear of a Daemon that could communicate in such a way was a tragic sort of wretch in Noctis’ stomach at the loss of a child. Who was to say whether or not the snake was telling the truth, or if the  _ baby _ in question was a baby at all, but it was an uncomfortable thought nonetheless. None of them had any reservation in protecting themselves and felling the beast that stood in the way of the runestone, but even after they left the depths of the cave, Noctis was still dwelling on her sentiments.

By the time they were back at a caravan, situated around the low light of a lantern (and bathed to be their  _ shiniest _ possible selves), Noctis hadn’t stopped thinking of what he’d heard. At least around his company, resting comfortably after a hot meal, he could pull together some semblance of normality and take a breather before he went to bed. He’d gotten into the habit ever since their road trip began; while sometimes it created a gap between him and the world that felt much more like an abyss than self-contemplation, it also ever-so-slowly moved him towards peace of mind. As if no matter how slowly he adjusted to loss and situations tinted grey at best, he was still doing just that: adjusting. What else was there a person to do?

He wanted to let it go. It may not have been eating away at him, but it was bothering him nonetheless, and of _ course  _ the person most attentive to detail wanted to stay behind even as the others went to bed. Whether or not Noctis would have preferred it that way, Prompto wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he’d make an attempt anyway.

“It was pretty intense earlier, watching you touch that stone.”

“Was it?” Noctis blinked and tilted his head.

“Yeah, dude. Bright and…  _ electric _ , or something. Your eyes even changed color for a second.”

“Right,” he thought back to the picture Prompto managed to take at just the right time. 

“Thank Gods it didn’t stay that way.”

“Oh, really? Too scary for you?”

“...Scary?”

Noctis wasn’t completely sure how the question came out, but perhaps amidst the stress and inner overthinking of the day, he’d lost the regular filter that kept the strange late-night thoughts from exposing themselves. But there wasn’t much time to sit in awkward silence; Prompto brushed it off and even offered a short chuckle.

“That’s a good one, Noct. I could never be scared of you. And even if I was, it’s not like that would change anything.”

“...” he appreciated the honesty, though he was far beyond knowing how to respond to it. It was late, he was tired, and he hadn’t exactly expected Prompto to pledge his loyalty right then and there. 

“Y’know, when you showed up and came between me and those Daemons…” he scratched the back of his head and continued on with laughter, “I think I was so relieved I could’ve kissed you.”

Noctis put his chin in his hand and watched as Prompto stood from his chair. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I, uh...” nervous fiddling lasted mere moments before the blond was able to smooth his way into an answer. “The moment just passed, I guess. We went back down into a deep, dark, scary cave.”

Though, Prompto supposed he was scared of a lot of things.

“We should be headed off to catch some z’s,” he took a few steps towards the camper and carried on. “It’s getting late, and Ignis always wants us up so early — ”

His words were halted immediately when Noctis stood from his own chair, reaching for Prompto’s arm as he just stepped in front of him. The photographer stopped and, before even a full second could pass, felt something warm and soft on his lips. Another full second ticked on before he could fully comprehend what was going on; before Noctis could fully comprehend what he was doing, just like the late night questions that usually made their home far beneath the surface.

They parted too soon; the kiss was nothing more than a peck, something that Prompto was no stranger to (hard to believe that he was even more of a skirt-chaser in his high-school youth, but, he absolutely was) and Noctis felt was only natural (wasn’t it, or had he been misreading signals? He had certainly never done this before). And yet something stuck in the both of their chests like giddiness, or anxiety. It stuck around until one of them spoke again: Noctis. Almost as if nothing happened at all.

“Yeah, I think I’ll head inside. Goodnight.”

Noctis turned away without waiting for a response and walked softly into the small trailer without another word. Prompto was left outside to bring an unsure finger to his lips, making sure they had actually been kissed, making sure that Noctis had actually done what Prompto though he did. 

And he had. And Prompto couldn’t help but consider everything Noctis had ever done for him in their time together, from the very beginning to that very same day. They’d been like two peas in a pod for so long, the subtle change inspired more than just shock; within his heart, above all else, Prompto was grateful. And no matter who he was, or where he came from, what he wanted was to give Noctis everything that Noctis had ever given him. Impossible as it could be, Prompto wanted to try. 

He wanted to help bear the burden of pain and responsibility, of loss and suffering, of nostalgia and helplessness — even if all he could do at times was sit and witness it from the passenger car seat, pretending to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to jinx anything... but my momentum for this fic doesn't seem to be stopping.  
> Which is good, because I definitely have more planned!
> 
> Please share your thoughts! I'd love to hear them.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> {But take every chance to look back at who you used to be, and how you used to feel, and how _some things_ never change.}
> 
> Notice:  
> There are mentions of alcohol from the cut to the end of the chapter.

There was something special about being gathered around a campfire; it simply couldn’t be replicated in a hotel or a caravan. Sans the comfort of mattresses and central heating, camping was perhaps one of the only satisfying things about their trip. At the end of the day, winding down with a hot meal and small conversation was when they all felt most at ease.

Just as per their ritual, Prompto passed around a small pile of the pictures that he’d taken during their time since their last night of rest. Sometimes that time period could end up totaling to a few days, but this time around, they somehow managed to find a rune-covered rock face just in time for sundown. For Prompto, that meant he didn’t have so many shots to show off, but in the end the group of men always felt the same.

They’d treasure the memories for as long as they could.

“How’d you get into taking pictures, anyway?” Gladio asked, looking down fondly at a group selfie that Prompto had taken at the Chocobo post in Duscae.

“Oh, it’s been a thing of mine for a while,” he leaned back in his seat, relishing in how the others always enjoyed looking at the moments he managed to capture. Or, in the very least, they always agreed to humor him. But those little details didn’t matter. “Since before high school, I’d take pictures of myself and keep track of my progress.”

“Progress?”

Gladio raised a curious eyebrow as Ignis took a seat to join them around the fire; with all the dishes cleaned, all he had left to do was enjoy the night out — as well what seemed like an approaching story.

“Yeah, my weight loss. It… doesn’t really bother me anymore, but I was  _ quite _ the overweight kid.”

“You? Weight loss? You’re the only person skinnier than this guy — ” Gladio reached over to sweep his hands over Noctis’ gelled hair, effectively ruining the masterpiece, and Noctis made an annoyed noise from the back of his throat.

“I never would have guessed it,” Ignis added, paying no mind to the subtle roughhousing going on beside him. “All this time you’ve been serious about watching your weight.”

Prompto winced a bit at the analysis, remembering all the times he’d tried to rouse the others into dropping by a diner for a second dinner or breakfast. “Like I said, it doesn’t bother me anymore or anything. Once I got healthy, I started taking pictures of  _ other _ beautiful things.”

Finished giving Noctis a hard time, Gladio shifted his weight to the end of his chair and leaned forward, not at all done with the conversation. It kept posing more questions than answers, and if there was any time to talk about the mundane parts of life like weight loss and hair care, it was around the calm campfire of the night.

“So, what? You just decided to lose a bunch of weight one day?”

“Well, no, not uh — not exactly.”

“Then what was it?”

Prompto gave a nervous look at Noctis, but Noctis was staring back just like Gladio was, albeit more neutral about his curiosity. Still, Prompto knew that he wanted to know. He’d explained it before in a much more vague way, years ago, so he figured that perhaps it was a question that Noctis had been wanting to ask for some time.

“It’s… a long story, and it’s getting late, and — ”

“And nothing. We’re listening, aren’t we?” Gladio looked at Noctis and Ignis for support, who nodded in encouragement.

So Prompto took a deep breath and started at the beginning.

“When I was a kid, I found a dog. It looked like it was hurt, and I couldn’t just leave it there. So I took it home and gave it food and water. My parents never found out cause they never came home that often, so I wasn’t worried about taking care of it.”

“Does this actually tie into the story, or…?”

“It does, it does, let me finish. I tied a handkerchief of mine around its leg, and almost as soon as I had brought it home, it found a way back out. And I only found out what happened when I got a letter in the mail some time after. From Lady Luna.”

“Wait, hold on. Are you talking about Umbra?”

“Pryna,” Prompto stretched out casually, as if the whole situation hadn’t been a big deal at all. “She sent her to see Noctis, but the poor thing got hurt along the way.”

“Are you saying you’ve known Luna since you were a kid?”

“ _ Known _ is the wrong word, she just… sent me a letter, asking me to be friends with Noctis. Said he didn’t exactly have many friends, and since we went to the same school…” He gave a shrug.

“How considerate of her,” Ignis said, though Noctis was holding his face in his hands, mumbling about how he couldn’t believe one of the only friends he’d managed to make was because  _ Luna had asked him to _ . Not that he was angry about it, but it was probably impossible for another person to be more embarrassed at the thought.

“Anyway,” Prompto waved it off so that he could move on, and Noctis was grateful. “I wanted to say  _ hi _ and make friends, but I didn’t exactly have a lot of practice with it. I was pretty self-conscious about being overweight, and that didn’t help at all. So I figured I could start off by losing some weight and going from there.”

It seemed that the whole campfire wasn’t sure of what to say then; a nostalgic look passed over Prompto’s eye, a look that everyone managed to notice. It didn’t leave his expression when he looked over at Noctis to finish what he wanted to say. 

“That’s why I’m so excited to meet her, y’know? All those years ago, I can just tell that she cares about you a lot. She’s been looking out for you in her own  _ Luna _ way, and I’ve never gotten the chance to thank her for it. Without her, I wouldn’t be right here, right now. I wouldn’t know any of you. And overall I think my life would have been just like it was before I got the courage to talk to you, Noct. I think it would’ve been a pretty sad life.”

They were all stunned into silence at the bare, non-hyped honesty that Prompto seldom laid out for other people to see. It was often only a sight for Noctis himself whenever it did happen to manifest, but as time passed on, he grew more and more into the comfort of something along the lines of a family. Gladio and Ignis had his back just as much as he had theirs; during their trip together, he had learned more than he thought he’d learned in his entire life altogether. He’d grown and seen unforgettable things, all thanks to them.

“When we meet, we’ll be thanking her for that too,” Ignis broke the silence. Prompto blinked.

“You’d better get your speech ready. She’s a busy lady,” Gladio added.

Words were lost on the tip of Prompto’s tongue, though he would have brought himself to let them stutter their way out, if Ignis hadn’t continued.

“These campfires wouldn’t be quite the same without your photos to look back on,” He then stood from his chair, giving Prompto’s shoulder a hearty pat before making his way towards the tent. “I do hope you continue. It could prove a promising future for you.”

“And if you wanna put some muscle on those bones,” Gladio gave him more of a punch than a pat when he followed Ignis, “I’ll get you up bright and early for some one-on-one training.”

Prompto pretended not to be downright terrified of the idea.

* * *

At the edge of the rock face, in the direction of a lake and a clearing illuminated by bright moonlight, Prompto and Noctis sat with their feet hanging over the edge. There weren’t many dry nights in Duscae and they figured they should enjoy it while they could, open sky and all. Unlike Insomnia, light pollution out in the country didn’t seem to pose any sort of problem to the stars far off in the universe. They shone down, some blinking, and some as motionless as a bleached speck upon a deep blue canvas. The gentle glow of the runes on the campsite kept Daemons at bay and between the two of them, it was almost as if nothing was wrong at all; like they could step out into the world without reservation. 

They had been talking for hours that flew by, reminiscing back on their childhoods and sharing stories that had never been spoken aloud before. Although they were tired, they didn’t want to retreat back into their shared tent just yet, perfectly content with going back and forth with their hushed banter of times passed.

They went back and forth with a bottle of wine, too: Duscae’s Finest Sweet Red. Or, at least, that was the brand name. For what it was, it was cheap enough for them to feel fine in purchasing a few bottles from Coernix Station.

“First crush you remember,” Noctis almost demanded, taking a drink straight from the bottle. Who needed cups past midnight, anyway? “I know it must be  _ hard _ considering all those girlfriends you had back in high school.”

“Uh, three is not a lot, first of all. Second of all, I don’t even know if I should count them. They barely lasted a few weeks.”

For whatever reason, Noctis found that funnier than he normally would have; Prompto swatted at his arm, trying not to laugh along.

“It’s not funny, dude! I’ve got bad luck when it comes to ladies.”

“So you’ve always been like that, then,” Noctis teased, and Prompto swatted again.

“I’d blame them more than me,” he argued, and at the sight of Noctis raising an eyebrow, sighed. “They were always trying to find ways to get close to you, and I fell for it more than once.”

Noctis grabbed for Prompto’s hand and he held it with the energy of a person that was absolutely  _ not _ operating on three hours of sleep and a pocket full of elixirs. “Was that really what was going on? And you never told me?”

“Aha, well,” he tried to pull back, but his attempts were far too feeble. “It’s not like I was mad at you for it or anything.”

“Could’ve spared yourself all the jokes, though.”

“I guess.”

Prompto was all-too aware that Noctis was still holding onto him when the moment passed into silence, and a sudden burst of heat spread from his face down his neck.  _ Drunk _ was the wrong word for it; while they had been drinking since they heard the first gentle snores rising from the tent, the more proper term for his sudden flush was perhaps… reticence.

“You never answered my question.”

“Huh?”

“Your first crush.”

“You already know that.”

“Would I ask if I did?”

He took a pause, and a breath. “My first crush was  _ everyone’s _ first crush. Quiet, mysterious, didn’t look like he cared at all about what other people had to say about him — ”

“So  _ that’s _ why you were always gawking.”

“That’s why  _ everyone _ was always gawking.”

He’d never liked it, all the stares he’d get walking through the halls and whispers he could barely hear in passing. It didn’t make a difference that they did so out of admiration or infatuation; he never chose to be born as a prince and certainly never asked to be treated differently than any normal civilian. 

“And then I finally had the courage to meet you and find out that you were a lot more of a lazy nerd than I expected.”

Noctis laughed again, a bit louder than last time until Prompto shushed him in fear of waking up the rest of the retinue. “No wonder you’ve never treated me like royalty.”

“Do you want that?” Prompto asked, knowing full well that Noctis did  _ not _ want that. “ _ Your Highness, my liege, I am forever indebted to your graceful reign over my common people _ — ”

“Hey, cut it out — ”

But Prompto had already adjusted his position, resting on a single knee and bowing his head, holding Noctis’ hand with both of his own. For an attempt to be as  _ mockingly _ formal as he possibly could, the Prince was completely taken aback by the switch. He couldn’t seem to find a way to laugh about it or say anything at all. Especially not when Prompto raised Noctis’ ungloved hand to his lips, placing a quick kiss just above his knuckles.

“ _ O, great Prince, to you I pledge my undying loyalty and lifelong servitude _ .”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Convincing enough?”

“More than enough. Never do it again.”

That was what eventually dissolved them into fits of quiet laughter, barely contained by the knowledge that being too loud would rouse their sleeping companions. But then, when the laughter died down, they were taken back to where they were and reminded of their reality. They had a place to be in the morning. A person to see. A duty to see through. Drunk, tipsy, or otherwise, the both of them knew that they were exhausting their final chances to relive memories and be together in their lighthearted ways.

“I hope Altissia is as beautiful as they say it is.”

“You’ve sure got a thing for romance.”

“I’m serious! Gondolas, great white buildings, street musicians, fancy hotels — the whole nine yards. There couldn’t possibly be a place more romantic.  _ And _ we get to meet Lady Luna.”

“Can’t wait to see the pictures you take.”

“Oh, I’m gonna take _ so many _ .”

They were set to sail with Cid as soon as they could get to the docks. Within him, Noctis was anxious to get there and have this all be over: the nights without sleep, the hunger, and the time away from Luna. She was alive, but in the reach of the Empire, anything could happen. Wedding or no wedding, he felt that his calling was to go to her; it was the only guiding light he had left. Without it, he didn’t know where he had left to go.

“Everything is gonna be fine, dude. Just wait, soon enough we can all take a breather.”

For a moment, Noctis wondered whether or not Prompto had become psychic, always saying out loud what Noctis wanted to hear most. But then he remembered the moments when Prompto would take him by surprise, just like —

“Who was your first crush, then? I gave you my answer.”

Prompto fully expected to hear Lunafreya’s name come from the Prince within a second of the question being asked, but instead he endured an incredibly quiet pause. It was so quiet that in the far distance, Prompto thought he could hear frogs croaking by the lake and insects chirping beyond the border of the grass clearing.

“I think it was you,” he finally said. Surprise was a two-way street, so it seemed.

“Just ‘cause  _ I _ said it was  _ you _ doesn’t mean  _ you _ have to say it was  _ me _ , y’know.”

“I know that. I’m telling the truth.”

“What about Luna?”

“Luna…” Digging back that far into his memory wasn’t painful, per se, but he felt like a completely different person from then. Like it was more than one lifetime ago. “I met her after an accident I had as a kid. My father sent me to recuperate in Tenebrae, and she told me about my family line, the Crystal, my destiny… She’s been a guide for me ever since. A sort of light. It was never…”

He trailed off, but Prompto didn’t need to hear anything else to know what he was trying to say. The silence kept for another moment, but before long, Prompto took a light swing for Noctis’ shoulder.

“So,” he raised his eyebrows and leaned in playfully, “you still got that crush?”

“Get out,” Noctis tried not to laugh, failing miserably. As Prompto continued leaning forward, Noctis leaned back in turn until he was flat against the ground and the photographer was hovering not even a full foot above him. “What are we, teenagers?”

“Would you rather we go to bed like responsible adults? Actually, it  _ is _ getting pretty late — ”

Right as he started to pull away, Noctis pulled him back down completely, a resounding  _ no _ to the suggestion that he wanted to be anywhere else, doing anything else. If all he could have was a single kiss, he would take it gratefully, and warmly. But the feeling that they only had so much time was too pervasive for them to be satisfied in one passing embrace. So despite the cold of the waning fire and the time which passed into something more of early morning than late night, they kept each other as close as they could possibly be, their lips and the tips of their fingers kept warm with every instance of touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write this chapter longer than the others since it has so much dialogue in it. Originally it was only going to be the campfire scene, but it just didn't feel complete when it was over. The solution is more Promptis. Always more Promptis.
> 
> I'd also like to thank you guys for making this fic one of the most popular things I've ever written. I've never gotten over 100 kudos on a work before... It means a lot to me that y'all have enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much!
> 
> If you'd like to follow me on tumblr: @nokuutisu  
> If you'd like to follow me on twitter: @kkurosagi


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